


By His Side

by j_ack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I’m so sorry, M/M, Season/Series 09, The Author Regrets Everything, dean doesn’t have the mark, honestly idk why i wrote this but enjoy, i just keep having to angst them, sometime around there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28885458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_ack/pseuds/j_ack
Summary: Everything happens in a blur. So fast that even Castiel, with the remnants of his grace, can barely process the events in front of him. The angels wanted Castiel dead. And unfortunately, that desire also included anyone who had assisted him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 10





	By His Side

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in an hour and didn’t look back. all mistakes and errors/plot inconsistencies are mine and mine alone

Everything happens in a blur. So fast that even Castiel, with the remnants of his grace, can barely process the events in front of him. The angels wanted Castiel dead. And unfortunately, that desire also included anyone who had assisted him. 

Dean and Sam, but especially Dean had been insistent that they didn’t care. That Castiel was family, because ‘you don’t give up on family’ as Dean had once said. Castiel had never loved him more, had never thought he could love him more, in that moment. But of course, as he was beginning to learn, his emotions were far more complex and far more vast than anything he could fathom, or could hope to ever understand. 

And he was fine with that. Really. For far too long he had been told the problems and their solutions. That didn’t always mean that the solutions were correct, or anything that Castiel would personally choose, especially now, but they  _ were _ solutions. Once upon a time, that had counted for something. Now, it still did, but at least whatever doubts he had were of things that he could control. Usually. 

So, when Dean, and Castiel were driving back home to the Bunker to meet Sam, it was no surprise when a group of Castiel’s once-disciples had ambushed them. In the middle of Kansas, in an open field, with a sky a color blue so blue that it wasn’t impossible to believe that it was endless, and the sun not quite at its peak, shining it’s golden light down on the Earth.

There must have been six or seven angels, Castiel didn’t really count the number of vessels or his brothers and sisters possessing them. They were angry, and rightly so for he had gotten them kicked out of heaven and then led them further astray, according to Metatron. 

Castiel takes out an angel blade, and so does Dean. They advance on their attackers, blocking or stabbing at the other angels. It's a whirlwind of light and action and Castiel doesn’t know how long it takes them to kill off four of them--two had left, too scared to continue their attack. Castiel turns around to see one of his brothers light up, eyes and mouth glowing before going dark and dropping down in front of Dean’s feet. 

Dean smiles looking at him, taking a few steps forward to be closer to him when something on his face falters and Castiel knows something is wrong. The smile on his face is erased to reveal a grimace and Dean falls, flat on his back on the ground. Castiel crashes on the ground next to Dean, barely feeling the impact against the cool earth on his vessel’s knees. 

“Dean!” 

That’s when he sees  _ it _ . The blossoming stain of red on his shirt.  _ No. _

Castiel frantically searches Dean’s face looking for something, anything that could show that Dean could make it through. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for and grits his teeth, grinding them together as he fights back tears and his panic. He presses his hand over the spot, syphoning his grace in his hopes to try to stop the bleeding; to close the wound. 

The golden light of his grace flickers pathetically, and Castiel bites his lip.  _ No. No no no no NO! Dean…  _

His vision blurs, trying again and shaking with the force of trying to pour out his grace into saving Dean, the one person he l--

A hand wraps itself around Castiel’s wrist, weak and almost limp. Nevertheless, it is enough to bring Castiel out of his thoughts. He clasps on to Dean’s hand with his own in a painfully tight grip, like Dean’s hand is a lifeline even though he knows that that lifeline is expiring faster than he would Green eyes meet blue, and in that moment, Castiel is sure he has never in his milina of existence, seen anything or anyone or any soul quite as beautiful as Dean and his soul in that moment. 

“Cas,” Dean wheezes, blood spotting his lips. He doesn’t say anything more, looking at Castiel so intently that he feels exposed. Something inside him breaks in that moment, an agony so profound that he actually finds himself at a loss for what to do.  _ There’s nothing I can do _ , he realizes the ache in him growing so that it feels as if his whole chest might cave in on itself. 

“Dean,” Cas responds, so choked full of emotion he’s surprised that he can even talk. There’s so much he has to say, so much that he desperately wants Dean to know. But there’s not enough time. There never is. Never enough time, or not the right moment. And now, he won’t get the chance to tell Dean anything because he was too worried about it not being the right time or the right moment. He’s losing Dean and it’s his fault.

Guilt swirls around in his chest. Forcing himself to speak before it’s too late he says, “I love you. I love everything about you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t fix this. I’m sorry I never told you sooner. I love you.” His voice cracks on the last word, and Dean’s hand twitches in his acknowledgement. Dean’s breathing grows more labored as he tries to get words out but he can’t. Tears fill his eyes, looking at Castiel with a million regrets and a love that Castiel had never thought would be returned. “I love you. Only you.” 

A tear slides down Dean’s cheek before his green eyes glaze over, unseeing. A wail rips itself from Casteil’s lips sounding more like an animal or monster even. WIth unseeing eyes, he lays down keeping his hand in Dean’s and pressing his forehead to Dean’s. He pulls out his angel blade, the metal cool under his fingers. 

He barely even feels the blade in his chest and in a moment, a flash of light, all is over. 

\----

Sam brushes his hair out of his face, wondering where Dean and Cas are. The last time they had talked, the two of them had been only forty-five minutes away from home. It had been over three hours, and the sun was starting to set. Dean and Cas still weren’t at the Bunker. 

Worried, he pulls out his laptop and uses the GPS function to locate them. It shows that both Dean and Cas are only fifteen minutes away.  _ So why aren’t they here yet? _

He calls Dean. Nothing. He calls Cas. Nothing again. 

It’s uncharacteristic of Cas to not answer his phone, and Sam begins to wonder what they’re doing.  _ Maybe they’ve finally figured things out, _ Sam muses. Only,  _ no. They wouldn’t have spent more than two hours doing whatever the hell it is without telling me first. _ So what the hell are they doing? And why is it taking them so long? 

On impulse, Sam gets up, grabbing his phone and the keys to an old pickup truck that sits in the garage. He doesn’t tell Jack, though maybe he should have; but he’s not really thinking nor is he planning on being gone for very long. As he drives out of the garage and onto the road, he’s grateful that he’s stowed weapons and first-aid inside all their working vehicles. It’s not like it was ever a bad idea with their kind of work, anyway. 

He floors it, chasing the dying sun on old roads through empty, endless fields. His mind wanders, split between thinking about Dean and Cas and other things that fit his fancy at the moment. 

When he sees the Impala, pulled over on the side of the road, he breathes a breath of relief and starts to slow down, straining his eyes and trying to see his brother or the angel in the front seat. He doesn’t see them there from afar, nor does see them inside the Impala when he pulls up behind it. 

The worry he had stowed away is back now in full force, as he climbs out of the truck, holding a gun in his right hand and closing the door with his left.

“Guys?” He calls out, voice loud and clear in the emptiness of the wide open field. “Dean? Cas?” 

Sam steps out onto the gravel, hand squeezing his gun. He looks out and then he sees it. Or rather, he sees them. 

There are bodies on the ground, each in various outfits that no Kansas local would ever wear, so he automatically assumes that they are angels. He looks past them and…  _ Oh g--- _

“Dean! Cas!” Sam shouts, running toward two familiar bodies. “No no no,” he chants in a mantra under his breath. Tears well up in his eyes when he sees the blood stain on Dean’s shirt, a dark crimson stain on the left of his chest and wide open eyes that stare up, unseeing. He looks to Cas, whose forehead is pressed against Dean’s and their fingers that are laced together. He sees the impression of broken wings in ash on the ground, and the angel blade that protrudes from Cas’ chest, his fingers still wrapped around the hilt.

Sam presses a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that no one will hear feeling the wetness of tears on his cheeks, leaving sticky trails as they slide down his face. 

_ At least they had each other in the end _ , he thinks sadly. _ But where does that leave me? _

He crumples to the ground, the pain in his chest heaving as he weeps over his brother and friend. 

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sorry. thanks a million for reading<3  
> find me on tumblr @delicate-dean  
> -J


End file.
